Fic Fragments
by uzumaki rakku
Summary: Fragments of fics written on sudden inspiration. #8: Transience. At one point in time two people killed each other in a hazy nightmare, and screamed because they never wanted it to end that way. Their world twisted upon itself, and the search for the second chance began. "If I can die for you in the thousandth cycle, the truth shall turn into a dream and I shall sleep." KakaNaru.
1. Naruto: ItRaWPatRT, published

**A/N:**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

**This was a fic fragment, but I finally came up with a title...  
Someone intervened during Jiraiya's fight against Pain, and the two of them got the hell out of there. Who was it, you ask? Well, who else can it be, hmm? "Would you choose to hunt down a traitor or protect what you already have? Which is more important?"**

**It's nice to keep Jiraiya alive, eh? x) Hope you like this first chapter. I'd write more, but I'm a bit... stuck. Ah well. **

**I have a bad habit of suddenly getting new fic ideas, and go off writing them, because the evil plot bunny keeps giving me more and more ideas. I know Dear Weird Book and Irrelevant have been on hiatus since forever, and I am really sorry! -guilty look- I'll try to update, kay? (I say that every time, but... sigh.)**

* * *

"Didn't you teach me to never let down my guard, _Jiraiya-sensei_."

Jiraiya's eyes widened.

_Smash._

The Asura path (Shuradou) of Pain struck.

A figure came smashing through the wall. He flew through the air, landing awkwardly on the water outside and skidded for a distance before coming to an unsteady stop.

Blood flowed at an alarming rate, staining the water a deep crimson. Jiraiya stared. There was _no way in hell_...!

The six orange-haired (except one who had _no hair at all_) paths of Pain leaped from the hole in the wall, landing gracefully on a roof-like ledge. Each wearing the distinctive cloak of the infamous Akatsuki, and _all six of them_ regarding him with their Rinnegan eyes. "Six? There are six of them? _And all of them possess the Rinnegan?_" Fukasaku exclaimed, astounded. But Jiraiya paid them no heed - not even the fact that he was now facing _six_ Rinnegan users - and focused his attention on one solitary, spiky-haired person. _Him?_

He was the last person Jiraiya had expected to see there.

"Damn you, Ero-Sennin! It's supposed to be a _recon_ mission, a freaking RECON mission! And you just _have_ to go and get yourself into fighting the leader of Akatsuki... times six. I swear, you suck."

Uzumaki Naruto had arrived. And he was pissed.

The sheer number of Kage Bunshin in the area was a good indication.

"OI! LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM! IT COULD'VE BEEN CUT _OFF_ JUST NOW YOU MORON!" he glared as he hollered, pointing to the huge, bleeding gash on Jiraiya's left arm. Furious, the Gama Sennin immediately roared back, "You're one to talk, you damn gaki! LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO YOURS!"

Naruto's left arm... was gone.

It had been cut off somewhere above the elbow, the moment he switched himself with his teacher with a jutsu he used very, very rarely: Kawarimi.

"I'm fine, baka Ero-sennin," he replied shortly. With his other hand, he formed a quick series of half-seals, then reached out towards his severed arm lying some distance away. Red chakra, mixed with small wisps of blue, burst out of his palm and connected with the appendage.

Jiraiya watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Naruto tugged his right hand, and the arm came flying towards him. The older man stared as Naruto grimly, _calmly_ caught it, and the red chakra _(which had temporarily taken on the form of a dark red hand, he noted)_ relinquished its hold on Naruto's left arm. It encased both the severed limb and its other half, limiting the blood loss and protecting them from further damage.

Glancing around briefly, he saw Naruto's Kage Bunshin battling the six Pains _(what a _pain_ in the neck they are, he heard one of them mutter)_ and seemed to be holding their ground... despite the more-than-obvious fact that the enemy was not fighting seriously. His eyes narrowed. _'Not yet, anyway.'_

Naruto spoke. "We'd better get out of here first. My Kage Bunshin won't hold them off for much longer."

Jiraiya nodded shortly. After two-and-a-half years of living, travelling, training and occasionally fighting together, communication was simple and easy. A nod here, a glance in this or that direction, a hand-signal or two and a couple of words were usually enough to get the point across.

A few smoke bombs _and_ a flash tag _(because according to Naruto, there was _no_ 'overkill' when it came to distractions) _later, both were gone. Not a moment too late, either, as a loud yell was heard in the distance, "Fuuton: Rasenshuriken!"

Naruto grinned. "Seems like they're enjoying themselves."

"Is that your 'super awesome kick-ass deadly' new jutsu?"

"What else _can_ it be?"

"But isn't it... a kinjutsu?"

He shrugged. "Only because of the damage done to _me_. Not Kage Bunshin."

"But - ! Doesn't that mean... butbutbut... then - you - !" Jiraiya spluttered.

There was no hiding the very wide, very prankster and very distinctively _Naruto_ grin.

"Since Kage Bunshin can use suicidal jutsu such as the Bunshin Daibakuha, why not other kinjutsu that are banned due to damage done to the user? How the hell did no one ever discover that little loophole anyway?"

Jiraiya just stared. Then frowned.

"Why did _you_ use the Kawarimi to switch with me, then? You could have, _should_ have use a Kage Bunshin!" He glared at the still-bleeding arm of his student, trying to keep himself calm.

"Oh... Uhm. I kinda... just did the first thing that came to mind..." Naruto blinked.

"Crazy idiotic gaki."

"Shuddup."

There was a temporary silence between the two as they concentrated on getting to the border and getting the hell _out_ of Ame no Kuni as quickly as possible. Jiraiya tossed a blood-replenishing pill to Naruto, who caught it with his teeth, and ate one himself. He tried to ignore the grimace on the teen's face when they ran, knowing that his injury was affecting him. Badly.

They reached the border and dashed across the lake, finally stopping at a small cave to rest. Naruto was still holding his severed left arm with his right hand, and that was definitely one of the many sights neither of them liked to see nor wanted to see again.

Naruto's eyes closed and he let out a fatigued sigh as he leant against the wall of the cave. He allowed himself to slowly slide down along the wall into a sitting position, while Jiraiya simply plopped down onto the hard ground without a care.

After recovering some of his strength, Naruto released the lower part of his arm and the red chakra, which was only a few shades lighter than the crimson liquid that had flowed freely a moment ago, connected the two separated halves. Both student and teacher watched intently as severed blood vessels reconnected, torn tissue repaired itself and quickly weaved back to their original state, bones were repaired or regrown, and finally there was nothing left but unblemished skin and the blood that had stained Naruto's jacket. _'Tsunade would be amazed at this,'_ Jiraiya thought wryly. _'Then she would be **so** pissed at him for getting himself injured.'_

The blond took a deep, shuddering breath. Recovering from such severe wounds _that_ quickly was always taxing, not to mention chakra-consuming. "You have _no idea_ how weird that feels."

"And _you_ have no idea how freaky it looked! Why the _HELL_ did you follow me here? How did you get in without being noticed - heck, how did you even know about this mission? Are you crazy?" The white-haired man was frantic. He felt a crazy mix of emotions - worry for his insane student's safety, anger at him at getting into such a dangerous situation, gratitude for the rescue, relief that the wound had healed...

It was turning into one _hell_ of a stressful day.

"Uhh... you kinda sound like Iruka-sensei now, you know..." Naruto looked sheepish.

"Um..." Glancing around for a distraction, he immediately brightened up when he saw the two Toad Sages, still perched on Jiraiya's shoulders.

"Hi!"

Blink. Blink.

"..." The blond sighed.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know who you are... Anyway, I'm Uzumaki Naruto!" He smiled cheerily.

"So this is Jiraiya-chan's apprentice."

"Ehhh? Why're you calling Ero-Sennin Jiraiya-_chan_?"

"Gaki! Stop calling me that!"

Fukasaku burst out laughing, and Shima soon followed.

"Ero-Sennin? Very nice, little tadpole. It fits him very well," she chuckled.

"I am Fukasaku and this is my wife, Shima," Fukasaku said, in reply to Naruto's earlier question.

"They are the two great sages of Mt. Myobokuzan," Jiraiya added.

"Wow! Really?"

"I taught Jiraiya-chan here Senjutsu."

Naruto frowned slightly. "I think Ero-Sennin told me a bit about that once... And that's the reason for his appearance just now, right? He definitely looked rather like a toad." He grinned. "But it sounds like it should be quite powerful. Do you think any of you can teach me...?"

"Maybe in the future."

"Cool!" He beamed, and Jiraiya grinned in amusement. _'Enthusiastic as ever.'_

"I'd love to stay and chat, but we really need to get back or dinner will get cold," grumbled Shima. "I trust you two can get back to Konoha on your own?"

"Yes. I am very grateful for your assistance."

"Yeah, thanks for keeping him alive," Naruto grinned.

Bonk.

"Ow! Stupid Ero-Sennin..."

Chuckling, the two Sages disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Jiraiya sighed and stretched tiredly, wincing at the sharp, sudden pain in his shoulder wound.

"Hey, Naruto?"

"Hmm?"

"Was it like that when you healed from Sasuke's Chidori?"

He stiffened slightly, then relaxed as he leant against the wall again, staring thoughtfully into the campfire.

"Something like that. Though regenerating a lung was more uncomfortable I think. Hmm. I don't know, this feels weirder though, with the arm reconnecting and all..."

"..."

Neither had anything more to say for a while.

"...Naruto."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He smiled.

"Go get some sleep, Ero-Sennin. I'll take first watch."

"No way in hell, gaki. You just freaking recovered from getting your arm cut off, you go get some rest _now_."

Grumbling slightly, the blond unsealed two sleeping bags from somewhere, tossed one to him and crawled into his own.

He fell asleep soon after, and Jiraiya sat there, keeping his silent vigil and absently listening to the soft, even breathing of his godson.

* * *

The next day:

"Baa-chan's gonna kill us. No, she'll kill me first, then she'll kill you, then she's going to yell at us for being a pair of idiots."

"No, she'll kill me first."

"No, she'll kill me for running off."

"She's definitely going to blame me for the whole situation and for making you an idiot – since I am, most _unfortunately_, your sensei."

"You're the one who went on this mission. _I'm_ the one who suddenly decided to pop up out of nowhere. She'll kill me first."

"...Why am I even getting into an argument with you over this?"

"..."

"..."

"Let's just get the hell back home."

"Agreed."

* * *

**Heh. Hope you liked it. Review, kay? Thankyousomuch! x)**

**And yeah, I'll explain just _why_ Naruto was there instead of hunting down Sasuke (who cares about Sasuke, anyway...) next time.**

**And about that Kage Bunshin and kinjutsu loophole... WHY THE HECK HASN'T ANYONE USED THAT TO THEIR ADVANTAGE YET? D:**

**Sandaime sort-of did, but it was a suicide jutsu anyway so... ._.**


	2. Obito: FGoLaDtOG, unpublished

**AN: ATTACK OF THE LONG TITLES! 8D**

_Fragmented Glimpses of Life and Death through Orange Goggles_

* * *

Uchiha Obito did not believe in fate.

He did not _need_ to believe in irony, because he knew it was real and it made up a good chunk of his short _(but still quite awesome!)_ life.

* * *

Obito was the direct descendant of Uchiha Izuna. His older brother was actually his half-brother.

* * *

His half-brother was directly descended from Uchiha Madara's father (who was Uchiha Izuna's father too, but it seemed that Uchiha Izuna was always so much less important, _of course_). No one else knew, and no one else cared.

Obito knew, but he _really_ did not want to care about lame and irrelevant stuff like that.

Blood was blood, right? It's all Uchiha blood in the end...

* * *

Somehow he never remembered the respected clan leaders—and former clan leaders—by anything other than their full names.

(They seemed too impersonal for anything else.)

* * *

Other ninja said it was sad the poor kid never made it past chuunin.

The clan said it was a waste of their doujutsu, for he never made it past the first tomoe stage.

Uchiha Obito told himself it was _so damn unfair_ his brother never made it past eighteen.

* * *

Obito himself only managed chuunin too and did not even live past _thirteen_, but at least he surpassed his brother in one area—he obtained one tomoe in one eye and two in the other.

He told himself it was because his Sharingan was activated out of a need to _protect_ others, while his brother's was attained out of desperation.

* * *

Stage one-and-a-half was not much to be proud of, not that he cared.

(He secretly hated the Sharingan anyway.)

* * *

The clan said his brother's lack of power—small chakra reserves, low strength and stamina, and lack of mastery over their Kekei Genkai—caused his death. _("A disgrace to the Uchiha, would have died sooner or later...")_

Other ninja said the poor kid's horrible injuries did him in.

Uchiha Obito believed the accursed Sharingan killed his brother.

* * *

_"I am Uchiha Obito of the Uchiha clan! I will surpass you as soon as I awaken this Sharingan!"_

Obito did not think his life was a lie. He hated the Sharingan and how the Uchiha clan viewed it as _the_ mark of power, strength and intra-clan status, yes, but he still wanted to attain it. He was just waiting for the right time and the right _reason_—to protect the people he cared about.

In the Uchiha clan, it was believed that activation of their infamous kekkei genkai depended purely on one's strength. Only those with high-level Sharingans would be truly strong, and of _course_ those people were the future leaders of their _most powerful and esteemed clan_. But Obito disagreed.

If he did activate and use his Sharingan, then it would be for a meaningful purpose. (Something awesome!) What was the point of being strong for oneself and oneself only? That would not be true strength. (That's not awesome. Suckylamesucky.)

So he wanted the Sharingan to prove a point. He would prove that he _could_ be strong, and he _would_ be stronger than any Uchiha before him. And it would be _why_ and _how_ he used his Sharingan which matter, not how _well_ he could use it.

It was the perfect rebellion. Obito would live how _he_ felt he should, clan traditions be damned.

(He never liked the selfish bunch of prejudiced elitists much anyway.)

* * *

Minato-sensei once remarked that if a ninja only wants to become strong for his own benefits, then his goals and achievements would never be more than the barest minimum. _"Because when you want to protect others, you have to keep growing stronger and stronger. For there is no limit to how much you can care for your loved ones and thus you can only keep pushing yourself, striving for more... just to be strong enough to keep them safe and well."_

That was when he realised that selfishness, greed, and desperation would never get anyone anywhere.

Sensei was awesome.

It was kind of _(reallyreallyreally)_ sad his brother never got to know someone that awesome.

* * *

He remembered once, Rin had remarked, _"We help someone, and they help us back, so we keep one another alive in this crazy bloody war."_

He always knew Rin was smart. Not only was she smart, but she was also the kindest person he knew...

_"Even if the person doesn't help us back, at least we've done something good, right?"_

* * *

Obito wished Team Minato could go home together, because he would then be able to grumble at Kakashi about how his Chidori jutsu looked _way too badass and cool_ and even matched his silver hair—and _it was not fair_, because how many ninja had awesomely cool one-shot-kill jutsu the same colour as their hair? Then Rin would blink, glance at their extremely _blond_ sensei and start giggling, Minato-sensei would sigh and chuckle embarrassedly and Obito would splutter in surprise at them both. Kakashi would snort, but Obito knew he would be smiling because his mask would twitch slightly. _Very_ slightly.

Obito would laugh, too.

He barely managed to keep the wry grin off his face, and murmured reassuringly, "It's all right, Rin."

But then Rin and Kakashi would _leave_, and there would be nothing to laugh about after all.

* * *

Obito had laughed bitterly in his mind when he told Kakashi to go save Rin and _give up on the mission already!_

He distinctly remembered another time, another place where he was so, so mad at Hatake Sakumo for aborting his mission and causing _Obito's _brother's team to end up walking straight into Iwa-nins' trap.

* * *

Obito did not hate Kakashi. He was an awkward boy and he _knew_ it, which was the only reason why the two always ended up exchanging nothing but annoyed insults. _(Kakashi was awkward too, but he was just that much better at hiding it.) _He did not shift his anger at Hatake Sakumo to his son because Uchiha Obito was awesome and awesome people had better ways of dealing with grief. There was no hate between him and his _(somehow)_ best friend, only a strange mix of sympathy-envy-respect-sadness that made up their comradeship.

* * *

One day, Uchiha Obito would meet a man with silver hair and an equally silver ponytail who would tell Obito he was _so, so very sorry_. Obito would eventually forgive him when he sees another boy with pale blue goggles and spiky black hair waving at him.

"You're early, brother."

"So are you."

* * *

Obito hated rocks. They took his brother, and they kept him from going home with his team.

Not to mention getting squashed by many, many falling boulders was _not fun dammit!_

* * *

Rin was so sweet and kind and caring, Minato-sensei was so smile-y and cheerful and friendly—not to mention a _scarily skilled _ninja—and Kakashi was always such a genius and the best at _everything_... they were all that his brother was not.

He wondered if that was why the more time he spent with them, the more like his brother he became.

_"Obito, you're late _again_!"_

* * *

Obito's brother was always late, but never by more than an hour. He never gave excuses either, just said he was sorry and stared with that apologetic, bewildered and almost _panicked_ gaze. It was a gaze that became emptier and emptier, yet at the same time more and more desperate...

Obito was forever late by unbelievable lengths of time, and he _always_ had an excuse.

_"Ah, sorry... I had to rescue a cat from a tree..."_

* * *

He took pride in his crazy excuses _(or the craziness of his excuses_—_same thing in the end, he supposed)_, but there was one particular excuse he _had_ to give credit to Kakashi for.

_"Sorry, I got lost on the road of life..."_

* * *

Obito's most prized possession was his pair of goggles.

His brother wore the exact same pair, only with icy blue-tinted lens, to protect his eyes.

_(The eyes his own mother almost gouged out. She was aiming for Obito, but his brother protected him.)_

When they brought him back, the glass was cracked.

If he squinted, the crack kind of looked like a three-bladed shuriken. If he squinted harder, the glass actually looked orange, no, more like red—

Oh. That was blood.

_(His brother's blood? His own blood? Who knew_—_and who _cared_ anyway. It's all Uchiha blood in the end.)_

* * *

The day they brought his brother back, Obito shattered his brothers' goggles. He smashed them against the table, again and again, until one crack grew into many, became a fragile spiderweb of connected breaks...

Maybe some of the pieces flew into his own eyes.

Maybe some remained in the goggles, even after he had the lens changed to a forcefully bright and heart-wrenchingly happy orange...

His eyes had bled, then.

They almost thought it was Mangekyou Sharingan blood.

Obito knew it was tears.

* * *

For Obito cried so much and so often it _had_ to be something different, something _special_ for his brother.

_(After all, it was all Uchiha blood in the end...)_

No one else had bothered to shed blood for the dead teen.

Until Minato and Rin and _(stupidstupidstupid) _Kakashi, no one had bothered to do so for Obito either.

* * *

Kakashi was the first—and last—person to injure an important organ for Obito, or so he insisted on believing.

_(Because the bitch who died cursing him and his father and nearly blinded his brother in her mad fury could never compare to the friend who saved him many-many-many times over, lost his eye and nearly _died_, the idiot-genius-asshole.)_

What Obito did not know was that his death left gaping holes in his teammates' hearts.

If he had known, he would have said he was sorry.

* * *

Despite being an Uchiha, Obito's affinity was not fire. It was wind—and not very strong, either.

_('Man, so much for "Uchiha blood"...')_

But who said you could not create fire with wind?

Wasn't air essential for a flame to burn?

So Minato-sensei trained him. He found out for yet _another_ time that Sensei was awesome.

Obito decided he liked burning and melting stuff, _especially_ dangerous pointy weapons travelling in his direction. Fun.

...Too bad rocks were never flammable.

Not fun.

* * *

Obito knew he was being unfairly biased against Iwa and Iwa-nins, but it was just a _tiiiny_ little bit difficult to be fair under his circumstances. In any case, he was a ninja. In a war. And war was _never_ fair...

Neither was life. (Nor death, for that matter.)

* * *

Obito loved his team. Really, he did.

_"We put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'~!"_

That must have been why he could let them go, let them leave him because he just wanted _them_ to live so much longer.

_'I'll be waiting for you guys, but you'd better make me wait _way_ longer than I've ever made you. Payback, you know? 'Cause even though I'll miss you all like hell I don't want to see any of you here anytime soon. Not until you're all old and wizened and ancient.'_

A bittersweet smile formed, slowly.

_'...I'm sorry I can't spend more time with everyone.'_

Kakashi had better _stop _moping. It was way too depressing and depressing was not awesome.

_'You've all became family to me, and you'd better live and live well, okay?'_

* * *

_('Cause Uchiha Obito's really damn awesome and you won't ever stand a chance of matching my awesomeness if you just flop over and die, you know.)_

**A/N: I. WANT. SLEEP.**

**Hope you liked it. I may publish it as a proper oneshot later. I'm still not too happy with the language quality ): some of the sentences / sentence structures sound quite lame ._.**

**Anyway! I shall go sleep now. Rawr.**

**Review please? ^^**

**~sleepybleary rakku**


	3. Naruto: Beyond Terminal Velocity

**_The air itself was his to control. The wind belonged to him now, and he belonged to the wind. Fly, fly, touch the sky, and smile a deadly-dangerous-delighted smile as you descend from the heavens. (Was he falling up or flying down? ...It didn't matter.)_**

**.**

He raced along the ground, half bent with arms thrown back to maximise velocity.

Because it all came down to sheer _velocity_.

Velocity: the change in displacement over time.

RunrunrunrunrunRUN—readyjumpNOW—take off—flyfly fly fly _flyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_—

_At the peak of his flight, when velocity was zero and he was frozen in the air – for that one moment at the top of the world above all creation – he smiled, and raised his arms in front of his body. An almost-transparent blade of pure wind formed in each hand, held in an unrelenting death grip._

_It felt as though the sky itself was flowing into him, with an endlessness which offered to him all it had._

_Everything._

And so, the entirety of the world disappeared bit-by-bit as he descended from the blue, blue sky.

Sound was fading out from his world, bleeding away into nothingness as pure, indistinguishable noise eagerly rushed to fill in for it. The noise crashed through his brain like a tidal wave, driving away everything inside as it greedily snatched away all the space he had to offer.

_He was powerless against it_ –  
The wind whisked the thought away.

_It was _his_ power now –  
_And the wind took that, too.

**_He loved it. He loved it so very much it utterly terrified and _****thrilled_ him._**

There was the briefest breath of vicious, gleeful laughter in his ear, before the descent began.

Acceleration due to gravity: _(almost)_ 10 metres per second per second.

_('Almost' didn't matter anymore because—) _

The undefeatable wind pushed him faster, faster, ever faster.

Even beyond terminal velocity.

_(He didn't know if the laughter had been his own. It flew away merrily, like a kite without its annoying string. Almost like a mind without its annoying sanity.)_

.

Both blades crashed into his opponent at the same moment. One through the head, the other right through his heart.

The noise abruptly vanished away, leaving its silent, rapturous laughter ringing in his ears as he made direct contact with those scarlet eyes which stared at him in blank disbelief.

Then he smirked, twisted both blades, and let the wind which he had compressed into two deadly points _until that moment_ explode outwards as he dragged them sideways.

The human _(only human after all, the wind laughed and laughed and laughed)_ flesh was completely shredded.


	4. HPN Crossover: Starting from Square One

**There are many blonds in the world. No one ever said that the one Harry met in Madam Malkin's shop _had_ to be Draco Malfoy, right? Hence, this crossover.**

**Italicised passage taken from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone,_ to provide the setting. And, of course, that's definitely not mine.**

**.**

_One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life – more money than even Dudley had ever had._

_'Might as well get yer uniform,' said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. 'Listen Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.' He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous._

_Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve._

_'Hogwarts, dear?' she said, when Harry started to speak. 'Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.'_

In the back of the shop, a boy with the blondest hair he'd ever _seen_ and some strange scar-like markings on his face was standing on a footstool, while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hi!" the boy said immediately, tone as bright as his hair. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Have you gotten all your stuff yet? I was really quite bewildered when the letter came telling me I was a _wizard_, of all things, and when I realised I was supposed to send the reply the owl as long gone, so..." he laughed sheepishly. "Thankfully, another owl came by after a few days with the same letter, and so I replied and said, _hell yes_ I want to study in Hogwarts! And _then_ I realised I didn't have any idea where to get my school stuff... Bleargh..."

Harry couldn't help but give a small snort of laughter then, despite his attempts at being polite. The blond was unexpectedly friendly, which was really quite nice, he decided.

"How'd you find your way here, then?" he found himself asking the other boy, curiosity getting the better of him. "There's no way anyone would expect a whole street of magical shops to be hidden right here in the middle of London..."

Unusually vivid blue eyes glinted with amusement, as if sharing an inside joke with nobody. "There must have been something weird about my reply, 'cause the school sent a set of instructions for muggleborns – that's what they call people who aren't born into a magical family, I think – and in the end I just took the Knight Bus here, even though it's not advisable for most..."

"What's that?"

"Hmm... it's a crazy, _crazy_ magical bus, which appears randomly when you stick your arm into the road, so it's kinda like a taxi, too," the boy shrugged. "It's fast, but it goes at such insane speeds with so little control most people don't like it much."

"Oh." Harry blinked. _Well, that's... interesting, I guess._ "So, you're here with..." he trailed off a little, even though he didn't really know why. "...your parents...?"

"Erm," the boy began awkwardly, then raised his shoulders slightly with a half-hearted smile. "I... don't have any. So I'm here alone."

"Oh," Harry said again, taken aback by the unexpected revelation. "I'm sorry." The other boy gave him a reassuring smile, mumbling something vaguely.

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence between them, before Harry surprised himself by offering, "Me too. My parents... died, when I was a baby." He ducked his head slightly, feeling rather awkward with such a subject.

The surprise and the brief, intense flash of what seemed like _understanding_ in those blue eyes almost startled him, but both of them relaxed a little afterwards.

"Sorry," the boy said sincerely. "So... Did someone come along with you to buy your school stuff?"

"Yeah," Harry said, rather eagerly. "His name is Hagrid and he's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. I think he's brilliant! In fact – hey look – he's right there now." He nudged his head towards the front window, as his arms were currently pinned down by the long black robes. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn't come in.

The other boy leaned a little to get a better look, and quickly straightened again when the tailor witch reminded him to be careful _not_ to fall off the stool.

"I'll take your word for that," he grinned. "He looks quite awesome."

Their measurements were soon done, and both boys were told to come back later for their finished robes. They stepped out of the shop, and it was only then Harry noticed the "scars" on the other boy's face were, in fact, strange markings which looked just like whiskers.

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**And here ends the preview fragment. *evil!***

**I'm working on this crossover, slowly. ^^;;**

**Naruto's backstory regarding how and why he's here is going to be quite interesting... which is, of course, why I'm saving it up for later. (: ...That, and I'm both busy AND lazy, as well as very, VERY picky about the quality of my chapters... so it's going to take a while for me to get the next one up. Ah well!**

**Hope you found this strange little fic fragment interesting, anyway? (:**


	5. Naruto: Ambivalence, part 1

**_Ambivalence. Double polarity. Paradox. Contradiction. Duality. And, perhaps, the spiral was merely a line who felt lonely._**

**AN: The paradox that is Naruto. The paradox that is Dark Naruto. He's the one closer to darkness, but that doesn't necessarily make him _bad_ or _evil._ They are, after all, Uzumaki Naruto.**

**Preview fic fragment, part one. (:**

* * *

**_Ambivalence._**

A spiral cannot exist on its own. For every spiral drawn in black, a similar spiral runs alongside it, in the white space which is left 'empty'.

A spiral would not be a spiral without its double, for if the white space were to be filled in, it would become a circle.

Thus every 'spiral' is actually made up of two spirals, which are opposites of each other, yet still the same in essence.

The world can deny the other spiral's existence, and call it empty, meaningless space, but _they_ would never deny each other.

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Perhaps the spiral was merely a line who felt lonely.

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He was a paradox.

A paradox of himself.

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The woman reached out a hand to pinch his smooth, chubby cheek.

Then she pressed harder, much harder, long fingernails digging into the whisker-lined flesh.

Big blue eyes snapped open, bright with anger but tearless.

_"Hate you,"_ the tiny almost-toddler uttered in his high, childish voice, small mouth carefully forming the unfamiliar words before stretching into a wide smile. It would have been such an adorable, innocent smile, but only without the hint of fang and the inhuman glint in those too-blue eyes.

And the child went back to sleep, the smile never leaving his face as the red nail-marks faded from his skin.

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The old man who smelt of tobacco was kind, which was nice, the child decided. And _niceness_ was definitely hard to come by.

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He was young, younger than what almost everyone could remember. There had been sharp, stinging pain, someone's harsh words, someone's irrational fury.

He remembered the way his skin stung from the pain even though there were no wounds, no scratches and no bruises.

—_Slaps and smacks did not leave lingering marks, after all. _Especially not on him.

But the remembered pain lingered in his skin cells and his brain.

It was **_infuriating._**

Pain... he could bear with. Pain didn't matter as long as he fought and refused to be defeated by it. But the strange kind of leftover pain which twinged when he least expected it, but somehow... _itched_ and hurt at the same time was something he could not stand. It taunted him, being half-pain and half-not-pain, dancing out of his reach and darting back to sting him viciously when he tried to ignore it.

He remembered raking his teeth-trimmed nails – short, a little rough and _almost_ neat – along his arm, leaving long, red and surprisingly straight lines behind.

There. He felt much better.

There were still a million tiny pinpricks and parallel burning lines running along his skin, but he felt fine. He scratched his arm again, lightly, for it still itched just a little bit.

He remembered that strange sense of triumphant, bittersweet rebellion. It had been brought on by his stubbornness, and somehow he _liked_ being stubborn.

It didn't itch anymore.

He rubbed his hand against his arm, mildly irritated at how it felt too hot against his palm, and at the faint red tinge slowly fading from the tanned skin.

_I won,_ he insisted. _I'm not going to lose to her**. **It's not worth being angry over someone like that stupid matron._

Part of him shrugged and seemed to say, **Yeah well, whatever. She hates you anyway. You hate her anyway.**

_We hate her anyway,_ he shrugged too, agreeing.

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He was becoming really sick of getting yelled at.

The next time she did that, he yelled back. What he shouted felt wordless because they were nothing but sound and his exploding _rage rage rage_. She shrieked at him, he screamed louder. She paused for breath, he went on and on. He was _winning._

He ducked and blocked and struggled as she struck at him, lashing out like a furious cat and wrestling out of her reach in a mad scramble of skinny limbs. **To hell with the consequences,** his mind yelled at him. **I won't lose! I won't surrender! I won't let her do as she likes!**

He made a mad grab for the arm as it swung at his face, and bared his teeth in a furious snarl.

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BEWARE OF THIS VERY BAD BOY. HE BITES!

Part of him scoffed at the sign.

He grinned, and tossed it into the fire crackling merrily under the stove.

She shouted at him for that, but he only smiled with almost a snarl, and ran away laughing with almost a growl.

He was caught. A new sign was tied to his back. He broke it and threw it away. She yelled at him again.

BEWARE OF THIS VERY BAD LITTLE MONSTER WHO BITES!

He pushed his anger down, down, down, deep into the hidden corners of his mind. Part of him took over that anger, silently yelling back at the matron. He continued to smile without a snarl and laugh without a growl, letting his stubbornness guide him and letting his frustration crash around in his head.

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Using his teeth to keep his nails short was actually fairly effective.

It also gave him something to bite on when he was really hungry and really bored, even if it was weird and tasteless.

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He half-scrambled up the tree and sat down on a fat, sturdy branch, leaning his small frame against the trunk. No one noticed.

_Good._

He looked around absent-mindedly, sometimes looking up at the sky through the leaves and sometimes staring at their shadows lower down, where sunlight dappled through the trees and formed strangely familiar patterns on the ground.

_It's all the same in the end, _he realised.

The pattern was the same, in light and in shadow.

He let himself relax, as though he was snoozing with his eyes open, and enjoyed the peaceful in-between.

**_Hmm._**

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He started running off, running around, running away-away-away from the orphanage whenever he felt like it. Part of him absolutely _delighted_ in rebellion.

There were glares, whispers, someone's irrational hate. He ignored it as he continued to grin and laugh, while part of him reeled off a long, on-going string of insults and indignant exclamations, and it kept him calm.

Perhaps even kept him sane.

**They're all idiots anyway. You won't like them anyway. You don't care what they say anyway. It doesn't matter. You don't need people. You don't need to trust people. You don't need—**

He half-tripped when he suddenly saw the Matron who almost seemed to appear out of nowhere, even though she was just buying meat from a butcher. He ended up skidding past the Matron, who screamed, and then crashing into the butcher, who yelled in anger and surprise and reflexively raised his knife –

There was a blur of silver-white-red-silver-white-silver-white-silver-white-dark blue?

_Whuhuh?_

The two adults were knocked flat on the ground, knife easily batted out of the butcher's grip and flicked, almost casually, into a pillar.

He was torn between awe _(Whoaaaaaa, freaking fast!) _and glee **(Hah, in your FACE! Let's see you people try to hit me again!)** and, of course, confusion.

_Why did he...?_

"Thanks," he found himself blurting out before he could stop himself.

He received a small nod from the white-masked figure, who then disappeared with the two civilians.

Part of him was absolutely delighted that some people had finally gotten a small bit of what they deserved.

_But were they going to actually attack me...? _He frowned. _What if..._

**WHO CARES! **part of him yelled in his mind.** They hate you anyway you hate them anyway they treat you like crap anyway one day people like them are going to really try to kill you so why do you care what happens to them?**

He sighed in frustration. _Why're you always so angry and... so cynical?_

**Keeps us alive. Keeps us who we are.**

_Who **I** am,_ he corrected.

**You, I, us. Doesn't actually matter.**

There was a brief silence between them.

**...They hate us anyway,** part of him muttered mutinously.

_You can't be sure of that._

**As if! And you hate them all anyway,** the cynic insisted.

He thought of the old man who smiled and was nice to him, of the masked person who might have saved him and might have smiled, of people who still smiled at one another, even if they only glared at him.

_...No. I don't really want to hate them._

**You're an idiot.**

He smiled wryly.

_I suppose I am._

.

**If you're an idiot, I suppose that balances us out.**

_Hah! Like _you're_ so wise,_ he snorted.

**So, what to does that make us? An idiot and a not-idiot...**

He grinned at nothing, and drawled, _Hmm... A normal person, perhaps?_

There was a _(non-existent) _snort of laughter.

**Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.**

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Neither of them would ever leave the other alone. They existed to be opposites, and by being opposite they could still be the same. Keeping each other balanced, keeping each other sane, keeping Uzumaki Naruto who he really was.

And they found contentment, somehow, in the place in-between.

That was how they existed and lived, in ambivalence.

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_Perhaps the spiral really was nothing more than a line who felt terribly lonely, after all._

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* * *

**Part two will be posted next.**

**These fragments will eventually be written into a full fic, using the same title of _Ambivalence._**

**What do you think of this concept of Dark Naruto? (: I really think there's a lot more behind this character/personality/alternate self, because really, we shouldn't dismiss him as 'evil', He _did_ keep Naruto – both of them – sane and safe and strong after all, in a strange Naruto-like way.**

**I loved the hug in the canon, it was just so bittersweet and... _accepting,_ y'know. So calm and at peace with himself, full of hope and determination and _argh._ It's like – he accepted who he was, who his darker side was, and overcame himself despite everything, so he could continue moving forward. ;_;**

**I hope you liked the spiral concept, it's something I came up with and I think... it really _fits_ who Naruto is. Are. Is. XD**

**.**

**A sidenote: For those who are interested in further developments of my fic fragments, keep an eye out for my updates. (: The titles of the full fics when they are published would usually be the same as or _very_ similar to the intermediate titles used in the fragments.**

**Fragment #1, #2 and #3 have all already been published separately. #4, the crossover, is still under work and a possible title is _Starting from Square One. _If I decide on something else, however, then the intermediate title would probably be used as the chapter title. (:**

**Thank you for reading! Do leave a review to comment on what you think of this piece, 'kay? ;D**

**~rakku^^**


	6. Naruto: Ambivalence, part 2

**_Ambivalence. Double polarity. Paradox. Contradiction. Duality. And, perhaps, the spiral was merely a line who felt lonely._**

**AN: The paradox that is Naruto. The paradox that is Dark Naruto. He's the one closer to darkness, but all he ever wanted... was just to keep them both alive.**

**And despite the Chidori hole in his chest, he screamed.**

* * *

**Ambivalence.**

_**Part 2.**_

His mind was still in a state of blank _(painpainpainpainpain)_ shock when it crashed down into darkness.

Even before vision blurred its way back into his glazed eyes, he was met with an angry fist to the face. The punch snapped his head back with a sharp _crik_ of the neck, but the rest of his numb body remained held in place...

...by the hole in his chest which _was not supposed to be there._

_**"GWAAAAAAARGH!"**_

The hysterical scream exploded right in his face. He blinked once.

His head swam. His vision remained fuzzy.

**"I HATE HIM!"** Someone was yelling. **"Who does he think he is? Huh? Why did he betray us all? He's throwing away everyth— why are you even going after him? Why is he trying to kill you? – **_**WHY THE HELL ARE YOU GETTING KILLED?"**_

_Oh,_ he realised. _It's you._

The confusion he felt was vague and strangely disconnected from the rest of himself.

_Why're you so upset?_

Slowly, he managed to force his arm to move. Pressing ice-cold fingers to his cheek, he smiled stiffly.

"...Doesn't hurt, you know." He let his hand drop, staring expectantly at the other.

A pair of hands seized his jacket violently.

_**"You—"**_

They were nose-to-nose, and he could see it clearly by then – that furious, desperate face, exactly like his own.

**"TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, **_**DAMMIT!"**_

There was hate and anguish in the other's eyes, with a half-choked sadness and a strange _horror_ which lay beneath it all. The pressure which held him in mid-air by the gaping round hole – _where his lung was supposed to be_ – suddenly disappeared, leaving him no longer speared on nothingness, and he felt himself slumping downwards. The other boy's tight hold on his jacket did not loosen however, still holding him upright even though his arms shook horribly from the effort. _(Perhaps that was not the only reason.)_

_(He noticed an identical hole in the other's chest, a fist-shaped all-the-way-through not-supposed-to-be-there-dammit wound drenched with dark-dark-dark blood, black with pain and scarlet with hate.)_

"Doesn't hurt," he insisted, voice barely audible.

The other boy made a strangled half-way sound, somewhere between a snort of mad laughter and a sob disguised as a scream.

**"Which one?"** He snarled harshly, sarcasm sliding sluggishly down his torso.

He smiled.

_**"Which one?"**_ His double pressed. _**"Which one are you referring to? Tell me!"**_

He would have shrugged, if it was physically possible then.

"Yours," he remarked wryly. "The other one hurts like hell... but somehow..." he paused, pressing his hand over his heart. "This one hurts the most."

"...Yet your punch doesn't at all. Weird, isn't it?" He made a weak attempt at a grin.

And then, because it really really mattered, _"I'm sorry."_

The strangest and most unreadable expression came over the other's face at that moment, before it was wiped completely blank.

**"Don't apologise, dammit," **The boy snapped. **"Especially when there's no need to. It's a sign of weakness."**

He grinned weakly. "If you say so. But I wanted to."

The other boy scowled at him. **"Don't die, either."** Then, more quietly, **"...I don't want to."**

"Got it."

A sea of scarlet engulfed them, and he felt himself pushed into it as the hands let go.

_Thanks._

**I hate him.**

_I made a promise._

**Don't die.**

_I want to keep that promise._

**Don't die.**

_I will fight and bring him back._

**Don't die.**

_I won't._

**...Idiot.**

_Thanks for keeping me alive._

.

He failed the promise.

_**But you're alive. Keep it that way.**_

_(And he may or may not have added, _**please.**_)_

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_to be continued._


	7. Windchime, chapter 1 version 2 (redraft)

**AN: Decided to make a ton of edits to the first chapter of my (completed) fic ****_Windchime_****, because I suddenly felt like it...**

**The original chapter was written quite a while back and my writing style is constantly evolving, so the earlier chapters can feel quite different from the later ones. And even the last few chapters feel different from my more recent works. This is confusing... Or maybe I'm just nitpicky?**

**Anyway, consider this a writing exercise! Though I'd love to get some feedback on it. I may also replace the original with this version if it fits better with the rest of the chapters. (:**

**Presenting... ****_Windchime _****Chapter 1 v2.0! XD**

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_Windchime_

* * *

"Damn you Kakashi-sensei, wake up! Wake the hell up and open your eyes! _Sensei!_ Come on, don't you dare die on me!"

He shook the man violently. "Damn – you – idiot – self-sacrificing – moron – bastard – wake up and LOOK AT ME!"

Kakashi's head lolled limply to the side. Naruto's grip slackened, and the silver-haired jounin slid out of his grip, slumping to the floor.

**"KAKASHI!"**

_But_ –

His breath hitched.

There was no way Kakashi could... there was no way he could _die, _because...

_"WHY WON'T YOU WAKE UP, DAMMIT!"_

Because he was _Sharingan no Kakashi_, Konoha's strongest jounin, the genius student of another genius, ex-Anbu, Team 7's jounin-sensei, Team Kakashi's captain, _Naruto's sensei—_

Wasn't he the one who _always_ got away all right, _always_ had some way out, some secret jutsu to defeat the enemy, and _always, __**always**_ stayed alive?

Wasn't he?

Wasn't Naruto the one who would protect everyone, save everyone, bulldoze his way through everything and emerge victorious? Wasn't he the one who _never_ went back on his word? Wasn't he the one who _never_ broke a promise?

_Wasn't he?_

"What the hell... what the _hell _is this..." His shoulders shook as he hunched lower and lower, and he didn't even know if he was laughing or crying anymore because _none of it made any sense_.

_"I'm not smart, you know?"_ Naruto ground out bitterly. "That's why you're supposed to dumb things down for me to understand, because I sure don't get anything right now so _WHY WON'T YOU EXPLAIN IT TO ME?!"_

**_Why?_**

There was no response.

_C'mon Kakashi wake up justwakeupandsaysomething smackmeontheheadcallmeanidiot readyourstupidsmut dosomethinganything—_

He had failed.

He had thought he could save Kakashi, stop him from sacrificing himself, and then they would defeat the enemy together, thus they could also protect the village and everything would be _okay_, but now Hiruko was still alive, while Kakashi... while Kakashi...

"But you're... _you," _Naruto said desperately. "You're not supposed to be dead."

His voice was barely audible even to his own ears, and his hands felt numb. It was just like Gaara's capture all over again, only this time he royally screwed up and there was no Chiyo to fix everything, to bring him back from d—

He screamed, slamming his fist against the ground, but there was no savage satisfaction to be found as he watched it crack and crumble. "Why are you dead?" he snarled, suddenly furious. "What happened to everything you've taught me? What the **fuck **happened to **_not letting your comrades die?!"_**

His Kage Bunshin dispelled one-by-one, and his mind was suddenly flooded with memories of staring at his own grief from many angles.

It failed to drown out the enemy's glee.

"You have my thanks, Uzumaki Naruto! If I had tried to assimilate Kakashi – "

Naruto seethed.

" – I would have _died _for sure!"

He flinched.

"Isn't it wonderfully ironic that his own student would foil his plan and save me?"

He didn't notice when he had buried his tears in Kakashi's jounin vest, or how he ended up desperately holding onto the man in what could have been a hug. But he could not hear the sound of air moving in and out of Kakashi's lungs, or the steady beating of his heart.

"Too bad he's dead, though." Naruto clung tighter, knuckles turning white as he gripped the dusty-green vest.

"I'll just kill you and _take_ _him_ then!"

He froze.

_No_.

There was no way. It could not be true. There was _absolutely no way _that—

Kakashi had died for _nothing_. _(And it was all his fault.)_

**_No._**

_He would __**never**__ allow it!_

There was no need to form any hand-seal. He stood, silently regarding the white-haired monster. A horde of Kage Bunshin popped into existence – hundreds of identical darkened blue glares, furious snarls, and howling Rasengan.

It felt like something lodged in his throat, choking him, and he found himself unable to speak. But there was no _need_ to. The deadly song of the Rasengan, now a wild shriek of violent grief, spoke for him.

And it was more than what he could ever voice out in words.

His fists clenched, nails digging deeply into his palm. He wanted nothing more than tearing that _bastard_ _thief_ to shreds. But...

_If he joined the rest, who would stay with Kakashi?_

So he let the Kage Bunshin fight for him. _(Yet it felt like a pointless battle, for they also died too fast, too easily. Too meaninglessly.)_

But for every clone that went down, there would be two to take its place. The battle was a stalemate at best and pointless at worst, but he hardly cared.

"You're not supposed to be dead," he said again, turning back to face his sensei. "You're supposed to tell me I'm _way_ too loud and complain that I'm making you deaf."

He wondered if Kakashi would be impressed at his restraint – he did not go berserk (for once)! – or tell him he still cared too much. _(Quit contradicting yourself, sensei...)_

One of the clones yelled, "You stole Kakashi-sensei! Give him _back!_" and was slaughtered, all in one moment.

He also wondered if Kakashi would be impressed at the display of power and skill, or chide him for jumping headfirst into a dangerous situation. _(I have every reason to! And seriously – pot, kettle, black, much?)_

His mouth twitched in an almost-smile.

_(Idiot, I'm just following what you taught me.)_

"Hey... you know, sensei..." he whispered, "I fixed the bells like you asked me to." He pulled the small box out of his pocket.

"Huh. Looks like my luck isn't much better," he murmured ruefully. "I kinda squished them too – yes, _again_ – with the box and all."

The cracked remains of the small case clattered quietly to the floor. He tugged lightly on the strings, making the bells jump up and down, but...

The bells were silent. It was _wrong._

(Because as lazy and apathetic as he may seem, Kakashi was not one to be silent either.)

"I'm sorry, Kakashi-sensei..." He dropped to his knees. "I'll fix them again for you, okay?"

His fingertips lit up with tiny, dancing flames of blue chakra. He stared unseeingly, eyes wide and blank as the silver bells slowly, ever-so-painstakingly-slowly regained their proper shape. A single tear made its way down his cheek, but he did not blink.

Not once.

He let the chakra fade. _It was done._

Naruto closed his eyes and mourned, in a strange almost-silence against the faraway sounds of battle. A gentle breeze blew, ruffling his hair. The bells danced merrily in the wind, jingling softly, lightly... and were still again.

"Ohayou."

The silence shattered.

"Just what... are you doing here, Naruto?" a more-than-familiar voice rasped tiredly.

(And when he grabbed Kakashi again, shouting and crying and laughing hysterically, this time it's a real hug.)

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**So, uh, do you guys prefer this version or the original? ^^;;**


	8. Transience

**Old draft from 2012.**

**To be quite honest I'm not really sure why I wrote this... It was inspired and influenced by the Vocaloid song "Kagerou Days". A synopsis can be found on the Kagerou Project wiki.**

**Anyway. Been feeling really down lately, due to a ton of messed-up reasons, and I just... can't seem to get a momentum going in anything. Writing, studying, daily life... it's all so slow and flat and miserable because there's no life in it anymore. No motivation, no energy, nothing. I'm really drained, yet I have to keep going because exams and exams and exams.**

**I shouldn't be pouring out everything like this, dammit.**

**Back on track. So I was digging through my unpublished drafts and thought, _hmm_ _this kinda matches my mood pretty well, _and... yeah. It's technically still a draft, with some stuff I may or may not add in later, though I don't think I'll actually post this separately anyway. :/**

**Glooming aside, here's the fic, under the working title _Transience._**

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00. At one point in time two people killed each other in a hazy nightmare, and screamed because they never wanted it to end that way.

Their world twisted upon itself, and the search for the second chance began.

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1.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you, but you only smiled at me, and said—

_"Live."_

* * *

2.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you, and I couldn't understand why you made me.

I would have let you kill me first.

* * *

3.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you, and I don't know why you let me.

You should have killed me the moment I fell under the enemy's control.

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The yellow-and-orange tabby took an instant liking to the new professor who had inconspicuously (or so she thought) left a small can of fish out by the back gate which almost nobody used.

He would spring out of nowhere and go round and round and round her slim ankles whenever she appeared within his sight, skilfully keeping his tail out of the way of the sharp pointed things she wore on her feet which made her look even taller than she already was. She would stop, always rather bemused, then lean down with an indulgent grace to pet the purring feline.

One fine day a shooter came to their school and fired five bullets, but she took him down with a stiletto to the eye.

But his five shots took her down.

When the police arrived, the gunman's body was mauled beyond recognition and a single bloodied cat yowled as he sank his claws into the dead man's remaining eyeball.

* * *

4.

Yesterday in a dream I was sure I killed you.

But you looked so willing – so _content_ – to end yourself on my hands.

And I can only scream, until this reality comes crashing to the ground.

* * *

5.

I'll protect you for a thousand lifetimes, and I'll give my life until this terrible cycle breaks.

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_"I will die a thousand deaths before I let myself be used to hurt him again!"_

I will die rather than let it happen.

I will gladly die.

I will die.

I die.

* * *

6.

I'll die for you a thousand times, and maybe this time it will stick.

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"We will let him go free if you confess to casting that unholy spell upon him, servant of the devil," the solemn priest declared, going through the motions of crossing one's chest to ward off evil. "Or we will have no choice but to destroy you, and _cleanse_ him."

The young man only laughed and laughed and laughed, his chains rattling as his body shook. Even the cruel-eyed wardens took a step back as the mirthless laughter went on without end, accompanied by the mocking cackles of half-rusted metal.

"It's no use, you know," he said at last with a bitter smile. "You'll kill us both anyway. But what I've noticed throughout my lifetimes... is that one or both of us will always die not long after we meet."

(He only allowed himself one quick glance at the ashen sky beyond the single barred window.)

_"But,"_ he repeated, with a smile that was wild and mad and _fearless,_ "If I die right here he'll be able to live just a little bit longer. And... as an added bonus... **_I'll take all of you down with me."_**

The stone prison burned with fires so hot that it was as though they came from hell itself. The flames blazed an infinite number of colours and thrust up all the way into the sky, until the cries of "Save us!" and the screams of "Devil!" and the shrieks of _"Witch! Witch! Witch!"_ were all brought down to ashes trapped in molten rock.

* * *

7.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you.

But today you shall live, and I shall die.

* * *

8.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you.

But today you are _here_, and I'll treasure this even though it isn't going to last because in a moment I shall be—

Dead.

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_"You are not allowed to die. __**You are not allowed to die, you hear me?!"**_

I will do anything to make sure you live.

I will gladly die.

I will die.

I die.

* * *

For hundreds of times they passed each other by, like oddly familiar strangers on opposite trains, not knowing that they both rushed towards the same destination.

* * *

99.

My reasons and my choices have no effect on this cycle of death. It matters not whether I die to save your life or kill myself or die in a meaningless accident – Death is hungry and Fate is calling and either of us must be the sacrifice.

For one thousand times, we will repeat this cycle.

I know you are trying to stop me, but I cannot give this up. Because _I_ must be the one to reach the thousandth end, or you will be gone forever because—

Yesterday I killed you.

Today it is only a dream, and you are so very warm. Because you are alive, for the moment, in this isolated time and space.

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As another train rushed by in the opposite direction, the girl peeked open her left eye and caught a flash of the brightest shade of yellow she had ever seen.

She tilted her head and leaned against the glass in hopes of seeing it again, but in that moment all the train windows shattered in the giant shockwave of an explosion.

It took her a few seconds to realise it was the other train that had been blown up.

She only realised hours (or days?) later, staring at the blank white ceiling of the nearest hospital, that the eye which had seen that unforgettable colour had been forever damaged by a shard of broken glass.

* * *

100.

As long as I die, you shall live. It doesn't matter how or when or where or why—

Everything's so strange when we're outside the confines of reality, isn't it? My fault, I guess, since I broke through its walls in order to save you.

This is a race. If I can beat you and die for you in the thousandth cycle, the truth shall turn into a dream and I shall sleep.

Yesterday, I killed you.

Today it is only a dream, and the loop begins.

* * *

998.

The intentionally unrespectable Englishman found himself waylaid in the middle of a street in Italy by a sharp-dressed young man who, with a grand sweeping bow which seemed a little too flamboyant, presented him with a single red rose.

"Si tu meurs," he declared, "Je te tues!"

And as the blond who was undoubtedly French looked up his eyes were oddly serious, and stayed that way even as he hauled the taller man to him for a sudden, passionate kiss.

When the knife that had been meant for _him_ stabbed into the back of the youth he'd just met, a bloodstained smile pressed itself against his lips.

He killed thirteen men later that night, with bleeding rose in one hand and bloodied knife in the other and himself as the last.

_Si tu meurs...  
Je me tues._

* * *

999.

The young journalist doesn't understand why his hands shake as he tries to write the ultra-urgent article, about the boy who made sure all his classmates got out alive after their teacher ran off the moment the earthquake started – but died one moment before he could escape as the building came crashing down.

He doesn't understand why he feels compelled to visit the site of the tragedy.

He still doesn't understand why he doesn't feel any fear or regret or shock when a slab of concrete slams down upon him amidst the horrified screams of the boy's grieving friends.

_It'd be nice to meet him_, he thinks instead.

* * *

1000.

The boy rushes forward to push his friend out of the way of an incoming truck, but trips over the tail of a runaway cat.

And then they both fall into the road.

.

Naruto opened his eyes and grabbed Kakashi's hands just before the life-exchange jutsu's blue sphere of chakra and life force could reach him.

"Don't you _dare,"_ he growled. "Don't you dare die for me again."

* * *

0.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you.

But then you opened your eyes, and woke me up.

"It's only a dream," you said, and smiled.

* * *

0.

Yesterday in a dream I killed you.

But it is only a dream, and now we are free.

"Let's go home."

You help me to my feet, and we leave this loop forever.

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

**The format of this fic was probably really confusing, so... the odd-numbered parts are mostly Kakashi dying, and the even-numbered parts mostly Naruto dying. Towards the end this becomes a bit blurred because they both die, not at the same time but getting closer. And then the loop – the "dream" – breaks, and they're back where it all started... except this time it's going to be different.**

**Something like that. \o/**

**...Argh, everything is so depressing. Sorry about all that stuff earlier, I'm just trying to achieve catharsis like how I always do – through words.**


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